


Iterations

by tessykins



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Community: ae_match, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-31
Updated: 2011-07-31
Packaged: 2018-03-15 14:45:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3450977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tessykins/pseuds/tessykins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who bottoms? Five ways Arthur and Eames fuck, in no particular order.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Iterations

**Author's Note:**

> ~~Ripped off from~~ “Inspired by” [options](http://www.intimations.org/fanfic/supernatural/options.html) by [](http://astolat.livejournal.com/profile)[astolat](http://astolat.livejournal.com/). Beta'ed by the beautiful, wonderful [](http://sirona-gs.livejournal.com/profile)[sirona_gs](http://sirona-gs.livejournal.com/).

> _always Eames_

  
Eames loves it when Arthur slips into easy dominance. Arthur’s amazing like that, forceful and strong and frighteningly competent. It feels like it’s a natural extension of the Arthur that Eames loves and trusts completely. When Arthur looks at him, steely-eyed and imperious, Eames would do anything to please him.

Arthur orders him to his knees with a flinty voice and fiery eyes and all Eames wants to do is roll over and _take it_.

  
  


> _mostly Eames_

  
Eames isn’t blind, he’s seen Arthur’s perky arse. But Arthur takes a lot of warming up before they can get to the main event. Eames can spend hours fingering him, thrusting in his fingers a knuckle at a time; lubing him up until he leaks all over his thighs and the bed; licking him out until he’s soaking wet, spit dripping down his chin while Arthur squirms and buries his teeth in the pillows. Even then, Arthur’ll still be tight as a virgin.

Eames, on the other hand, needs little in the way of preparation. Dropping his pants seems to do it.

One finger, a lubed condom and Eames is ready to go. He just bends over for Arthur, loving the rough burn as Arthur just sinks into him; hot and solid and Arthur’s hipbones pressed against his arse. He groans, reaching back to grab Arthur’s thighs.

Arthur eases in, slow and methodical, hands braced on Eames’ shoulders. Arthur fucks him in measured thrusts. His hands and mouth and cock set the pace. Eames loves it, gives up everything to Arthur. And Arthur takes and takes and then gives it all back to him.

Arthur goes silent when he comes, only the tensing of his fingers on Eames’ hips giving him away. Eames knows his eyes are tightly shut, lip caught between his teeth.

Arthur heaves out a sigh, molded to the length of Eames’ back. He snakes a hand around their bodies, wrapping it around Eames’ cock. Eames thrusts into his grip with a stuttered moan.

“Come for me,” Arthur whispers in his ear and that’s all it takes.

Groaning, Eames spills into Arthur’s hand. “Love you,” he rasps out and Arthur gives an answering moan, his forehead pressed against Eames’ spine. Eames sighs, too fucked out to even think.

  
  


> _even switching_

  
Sometimes they compete, turning even love into a fight. It starts the first time they spar. Arthur bounces on the soles of his feet, both of them shirtless and already shining with sweat from warming up. Taping his knuckles, Eames grins at Arthur. “We should make this more interesting.”

Arthur snorts. “Do you have to bet on everything?” Eames just gives him a cheeky grin. “Of course,” Arthur says with a sigh. “What do you want to wager?”

Eames’ grin grows filthy, full lips curling. “Winner fucks loser.”

Arthur looks like the breath has punched out of his chest. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

Eames fucks him right there on the mat, slipping and sliding with sweat. His split lip burns when Arthur kisses him fiercely.

Next time, Arthur does the fucking.

  
  


> _mostly Arthur_

  
Eames is never unhappy about anything involving sex with Arthur. Arthur loves getting fucked but once in a while he wants a break from the norm. Eames is happy to accommodate him; more than happy, actually.

He leans against the wet tiles, soft moans echoing in the shower. Bursts of spray hit his shoulders randomly as Arthur moves behind him, sliding his fingers inside him. Eames thrusts his hips back into the slip-slick motion of two fingers moving in him. He can feel each knuckle as Arthur drives in and pulls out.

Arthur presses against his back, his breath against Eames’ ear as hot as the shower spray. “You ready?” he asks.

“God, yes; do it, love,” Eames groans.

Arthur pulls his fingers out and positions himself, the blunt head of his cock hot against Eames’ entrance. He sinks in, lubed with what Eames supposes is probably shampoo. It’s a slow burn, Arthur pushing in to the hilt.

Arthur waits until Eames pushes back into him, then starts to thrust in long, sensuous rolls of his hips. Eames lets his head fall back on Arthur’s shoulder. Their stubble scrapes together as they press cheek-to-cheek.

It’s slow and deep. Languorous. Eames loves it, the leisurely twist of pleasure, the heat that burns low in his belly. His orgasm shakes through him bone-deep; he’s left gasping and quivering. Arthur comes inside him, a burst of liquid heat.

They stand together under the shower until the water goes cold, make-shift lube and come dripping down Eames’ thighs.

  
  


> _always Arthur_

  
Eames doesn’t know why he’s always the one doing the fucking. The subject never really came up, when they got together. And as far as he can see, there’s not a reason to talk about it now. Because, as far as he can tell, Arthur loves getting fucked.

Arthur is, in fact, a filthy little slut. He’s always hungry for it, begging, demanding to be fucked.

Arthur’s beautiful like this. He’s spread out on the hotel sheets, all long limbs and pale skin. Eames leans down over him, mouthing at the sweat beaded at Arthur’s hairline. Arthur’s hands clench on Eames’ shoulders, just the faintest hint of sharp nails.

“God, _Eames_ ,” Arthur moans. There’s a hint of a whine on the edge of his voice. “Just fuck me already.”

Eames laughs. He hitches Arthur’s long leg over his shoulder, presses a kiss to his ankle. He strokes a hand down the white skin of Arthur’s thigh, fingers gentle and caressing. He presses into Arthur, a slow steady slide into heat.

Eames throws his head back; Arthur clenches his hands and moans low in his throat.

Arthur wiggles his hips, thrusting down to get more. “Come on, come on,” he pants.

Eames wraps his hand around Arthur’s raised thigh, braces the other on the bed beside Arthur’s hip; he gives Arthur what he wants. He snaps his hips in, thrusting hard and fast. Arthur moans like a whore and wraps his other leg around Eames’ waist, shoving up into it.

Eames thrusts into Arthur with messy, sweaty desperation. He leans in against Arthur’s leg, pressing him down. He catches Arthur’s other leg over his elbow, spreads him wide, fucking deeper until Arthur can’t breathe from it. Arthur’s eyes are glassy, sweat-damp hair messy across his forehead.

They start fucking in earnest; the full force behind Eames’ thrusts, Arthur pushing back into every one. Arthur pants and whines, a litany of whispered words slipping out on every breath. Eames is greedy; it’s not enough, not nearly enough. He holds him close and breathes him in, kissing away the sweat from his skin.

Arthur lowers his eyes, the soft dark sweep of lashes against his cheekbones. Eames can’t help but lean forward and steal a kiss from his open mouth. Arthur gasps into it, breathing hard against his lips.

Eames thrusts his hips down, hard and brutal. He’s on the edge; the bright white heat of it, the taste of Arthur and metal between his teeth.

Arthur comes all over himself without even being touched. Arthur clenches around Eames, and Eames thrusts into that prefect heat until he comes, bright and sharp. Arthur sighs beneath him, sated, pliant.

 _Yeah_ , Eames thinks, _that’s why_. “God, I fucking love you,” he says.

Arthur presses a kiss to Eames' lips and Eames can feel him smile.


End file.
